


More Than Fireworks

by ThePiesEndure



Series: The Sub Trilogy [2]
Category: Avenged Sevenfold, Simple Plan (Band)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePiesEndure/pseuds/ThePiesEndure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve heralds the beginning of new resolutions. She wants to end her acquaintance with Pierre Bouvier; however she gets a call from an unexpected person, and her New Year's Eve is set to be more fiery than the fireworks display that she can always see every year from her apartment.</p><p>2009 is almost over, and M Shadows plans to make it end with a bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I know you won't deny me."

No more. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to make this my New Year’s resolution. Yeah, I know, how trite does that sound, eh? But, I just can’t do this anymore. No matter I have all these debts to pay-off; I’ll find some other way. I...  
  
My phone starts vibrating violently in my purse. Swallowing hard, I pull it out and glance at the Caller ID. It’s a number I don’t recognise. Smoothing my features into a calm expression, I know if I frown it’ll be evident in my voice as well, I press the answer button and hold the phone up to my ear.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then a deep, husky voice speaks on the other end of the line.  _“I’m coming over on New Year’s Eve.”_  
  
A tingle shoots down my spine, my fingers tightening on the case of my phone. “Who?” I gulp slightly, even though I know who’s on the line, the synapses in my brain aren’t connecting properly. There’s a low chuckle from his end.  
  
 _“You won’t be dressed when I get there, will you.”_  It’s not exactly a question.  
  
I swallow some more, unable to wrap my mind around the words he’s saying. All I’m getting in my head is:  _Oh my lord...it’s M Shadows...Matt...whatever...and he wants me._  
  
He clears his throat, roughly.  _“You even listening to me?”_  
  
I swallow one more time then force my lips to form some words. “Yes, um...yes. I am. Sorry...kind of distracted...”  _By your voice...it’s so damn rough, and sexy, and deep, and sexy...and... Did I say sexy?_  Damn, I have to pull myself together. What was my resolution for the New Year? No more of any of this...including with any of his acquaintances. Curse Pierre...curse him entirely.  
  
 _“You’re not.”_  His voice is stiff; I tremble, seriously wanting to end this call right now, but getting this weird feeling that if I hang up on him Pierre will find out and be really disappointed. Scratch that; he’ll be completely pissed off.  
  
“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?” Yeah, maybe if I pull the polite submissive routine he might ease up a little. I can hear the amusement in his voice when he answers.  
  
 _“So, you play that way, do you? Damn.”_  He coughs then states in a hard voice,  _“You will be naked. On your knees. At the front door.”_  His tone darkens, gets even raspier.  _“Leave the door unlocked.”_  
  
For a moment I ponder my choices. Tell him ‘no’ and hang up? Just hang up? Or say ‘yes’ and let my resolve all but vanish. The first two choices sound great to me, right now. But the consequences would probably not be fun. The third? Well, maybe if I play by the rules, I might enjoy it; y’know, the whole ‘you won’t know ‘til you try it’ thing. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will help make my decision easier to make. Of course, my self-control all but vanishes at his next words.  
  
 _“I know you won’t deny me. You know I fucked you good that one time in the elevator. You want more of me. And, damn...you’ll take everything I give you.”_  He chuckles some more.  _“Besides. If you don’t. I’ll tell Pierre, and you and I both know that’ll piss him off.”_  
  
Exactly what I was thinking. Damn him; and damn Pierre. Again. I breathe out a little unsteadily. Then I take one breath, and then another before I feel I can respond. Matt waits patiently, obviously not willing to end the call until I surrender.  
  
“Fine.” The word comes out sharper than I mean it. There’s a heavy silence, I can almost feel the pressure bearing down on me, choking me.  
  
Then.  _“Fine? You wanna rethink your wording?”_  
  
I lick my lips nervously, “Um...yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”  
  
 _“Ready how?”_  
  
Oh, he wants me to spell it out? Shit...I don’t know... just say it already... “Naked, on my knees at the door.”  
  
 _“And the door will be left unlocked.”_  His voice is all command.  
  
“Yes, sir.” I can’t believe I’m saying all this, but, damn it feels good to submit. It always does. I guess that’s why I’ve stuck it out as long as I have with Pierre. [Even though he forced me into it, what with all the money I owe.] And, Matt...well, he obviously knows this.  
  
He laughs a little more, the sound holding erotic promises. And at that instant I get this vivid picture of him, flashing across my mind. He’s leaning over me, thick, tattooed arms trapping me against the wall. His eyes are covered by a pair of Aviators’ and there’s a wicked little grin on his lips. His big body is overwhelming mine. I tremble at the knowledge that in a matter of days we will most likely be in that position. And then, I realise I’m getting wet.  
  
Pressing my thighs together tightly, I repeat, just to get the image out of my head, “Yes, sir...I’ll leave the door open for you.”  
  
 _“Just what a man likes to hear. I can’t fucking wait.”_  He ends the call. The click signals this to me, and I just stand there holding the phone up to my ear.  
  
I blink a few times then put my phone down on the kitchen bench. Rubbing at my eyes, I let my breath out in a rush, but before I can relax I hear the soft sound of someone clearing their throat. I freeze. Then spin around.  
  
Leaning in the kitchen doorway, Pierre looks completely at home, like he’s been standing there for awhile. Arms folded across his chest, his left flashing the ink that he is so proud of. He’s wearing a faded black T-shirt and a pair of white-washed denim jeans. They hang low on his ass. And, as usual, he looks so damn casual, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. But the whole ‘I am harmless’ facade never fools me. I stare at him, grabbing my phone and holding it in front of me like it’s a shield.  
  
“How’d you get in?” I’m shaking a little.  
  
Pierre doesn’t crack a smile, his face is utterly impassive. “You gave me a spare key, remember?”  
  
Jeeze, yeah. I remember that...that was almost a year ago. He’d insisted, hadn’t he? Something about safety, and late nights and drinking. I nod absently, putting my phone back on the bench, before turning to go to the fridge. I need a cold drink. I don’t care what. Even beer will do.  
  
“So, you’ll be ready for Matt on New Year’s Eve.” Pierre’s tone is bored, as if it is of no consequence to him if I’m ready or not.  
  
I glance over my shoulder at him. His face is stone, unmoving, unfeeling. I give another nod, feeling like one of those bobble-head dogs that you see on the dashboards’ of surfies’ rides. Then I grab a bottle of Coke from the top shelf, pop the lid and down half the contents in almost one gulp.  
  
Damn, my mouth is so dry. Unlike the spot between my legs. I’m soaking, my underwear is sticking to me, and I don’t know whether I can hide it well enough from the man standing in the doorway. Pierre has this uncanny ability to tell if I’m turned on. Now is no exception, even though I really don’t want him here right now.  
  
Pierre’s eyes narrow, the deep brown so dark they’re almost black. I try to ignore his stare as I shut the fridge and walk over to the sink. I lean against it, back to him, even though I know that’s not really a wise thing to do. He still doesn’t move from his position at the door, though.  
  
“Are you going to answer me?”  
  
I frown faintly, and look at him again. “Didn’t know you asked me a question.”  
  
Pierre gives me a hard look, making me feel like he’s boring a hole in my skull, right between my eyes. I lower my gaze staring at the bottle of Coke clutched tight in my hand. Placing it into the sink, I then brace my hands against the metallic edge, gripping tightly. I know I have to answer, though. However, I keep my eyes trained on the bottle, while I feel my lips moving as if I’m on autopilot.  
  
“Yeah...I’ll be ready. I told him that.” I take a few deep breaths giving myself a few moments. Pierre remains silent, not because he cares about what state I’m in. Probably more because he has nothing to say.  
  
After a long pause, I feel less like I’m going to cream my pants now; my New Year’s resolution is hanging by a thread, waiting to be dangled between us. Resurfacing in the dead quiet. Rubbing at my arm, I turn to face Pierre, lips parting slightly. Before I can say anything, Pierre shakes his head at me, a warning not to open my mouth. I suck back my words.  
  
Pierre pushes away from the doorframe and approaches me. Forcing myself to stand still, I wait to see what he’ll do. He halts right in front of me, so close I can see the light flecks of colours in the irises’ of his eyes. His eyes rake over my body as if he’s stripping me in his head. I tilt my chin down slightly; he doesn’t like me meeting his eyes.  
  
Pierre sighs. “You’re turned on by the thought of Matt fucking you, aren’t you?”  
  
Shivers cause my skin to goosebump. I wrap my arms around myself, and shrink into myself. But, I answer, because I can sense the strain in his voice.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Pierre snorts. I glance at him. His face is set, eyes steely. Taking my bottom lip between my teeth, I wonder what he’s thinking. I can probably hazard a guess, but I wouldn’t dare speak my mind. Silence stretches between us, it’s tangible and I feel I could hold the quietness in my hands.  
  
Finally after what feels like an indeterminably long time, Pierre comes to some decision.  
  
“Show me,” he grits out, and I realise suddenly that he is aroused. I have no idea how I figure that, but there’s just something in the air...a tension that wasn’t there a moment ago. I purse my lips, but before I can protest, Pierre clamps an iron hand around my neck, shoves me against the sink and leans into me. The hard-on in his jeans is difficult to miss. Yep, he’s definitely turned on. I gasp at the rough handling and automatically go to shove him away.  
  
He growls, trapping my body with his hips. He drops his head down close to my ear and hisses in a menacing tone. “Either you show me, or I’ll tear your clothes from your body and fuck you ‘til you bleed.”  
  
A whimper escapes my lips, as I put my arms by my sides. The thought of him fucking me into submission really shouldn’t be a turn on, but damn...I’m getting even wetter between my legs. Pierre pulls back a little, giving me some room. But, he keeps his palm against my throat, a threat of what might happen if I don’t comply.  
  
I swallow hard, throat muscles constricting and pressing against his warm grasp. He stares down into my face; I can feel the heat of his glare, burning into my skin. With a trembling hand, I slide my way down my belly to the hem of the skirt I’m wearing. Pierre doesn’t move an inch, just continues to watch. No emotion shows on his face. And strangely that makes this a lot easier.  
  
I keep going with my hand, tugging the folds of the skirt up around my hips; then keeping it in place with my forearm, I hook my fingers into the waistband of my underwear. The line of Pierre’s jaw tightens, obviously in anticipation. No point in making him wait, though. With a quick jerk, I push my undies down my thighs. I don’t bother removing them, just leave them there, clinging to my lower legs.  
  
Bringing my hand back up, I cup myself. I can feel the juices trickling onto my palm, sticky, warm. Pierre rumbles in the back of his throat.  
  
“Show me,” he repeats in a guttural tone. I shiver; his hand tightens slightly around my neck. Shifting a little, I pull my skirt up further so he can see down below. Then I slide a finger along the slick folds, letting out a soft mewling sound.  
  
Pierre growls low. “Spread it. I want to see.”  
  
Slipping a second finger down, I obey, scissoring them apart and peeling the inner lips open, revealing my wet pussy. A sticky line of fluid slides down my inner thigh; my breath catches. Pierre inhales deeply, but other than a slight tensing of his jaw muscles, no expression shows on his face. I wait for a heartbeat and then slip the tip of my finger inside myself.  
  
The pressure around my throat increases, but Pierre isn’t really focusing on that; his eyes are fixed on my pussy, on the finger sliding into my body. He licks his lips absently, just staring. I swallow hard against his hand, shifting again. He glances to my eyes, easing up on his grip. I breathe easier as I withdraw my finger.  
  
He smirks suddenly. “Let me taste.” I hesitate. His brow furrows. “Give me your hand.” I hold my hand up; he closes his free hand lightly around my wrist. I watch as his fingers wrap all the way around my slender limb, holding me easily. He meets my eyes for a long moment, lips twisting in a cold grin.  
  
“Watch me,” he orders, softly. I let my eyes flicker from my wet fingers to his mouth. He chuckles, lightly, a whisper of a sound. Then he leans down and his lips part. I tremble fighting the urge to pull away. His breath is hot on my skin, and I feel like I’m going to burn up completely. Which is a little crazy considering all he’s going to do is suck on my fingers...  
  
A small gasp leaves me as he closes his wet, hot mouth around my finger. A spark of energy shoots through my body at the sensation, and I groan. Pierre ignores me, concentrating on tasting what is on my finger. The tip of his tongue appears for a second, swirling around my digit. I bite my bottom lip hard, almost breaking through the skin.  
  
The hand around my throat slips down a little, pressing against the juncture of my collarbone. I steady my breaths, keeping my eyes locked on Pierre’s mouth. His lips, they’re extremely kissable, y’know? Not that he’s ever kissed me on my mouth. That’s one thing he won’t do. Because, that would be a sign of tenderness...and caring. Neither of which he does with me, being engaged and all. Not that he’s ever caused any permanent damage or anything. It’s usually just rough with him, that’s all.  
  
I moan again as Pierre sucks on my finger, but then he pulls his head back and looks at me. His eyes have gone completely black with desire and it shakes me a little. I take several deep breaths, repeating in my mind,  _not now...please...not now...I don’t want this...please..._  
  
“What did you say?” Pierre is glowering at me, eyebrows drawn down over his eyes. I shake my head. I didn’t say that out loud did I?  
  
“Uh...nothing, sir.” Well, at least nothing he was meant to hear. Pierre continues to glare at me; but, then he just sighs and steps away from me. I wonder if that’s it then. If he’ll leave now. I know I’d appreciate it if he did. I’m about to fall apart here; I’m trembling all over, feeling like I’m about to explode out of my skin. Lifting my other hand, the one that Pierre didn’t suck on, I press it to my throat where his hand was seconds ago.  
  
Pierre cocks an eyebrow at me, then says in a off-hand manner, “Pull your skirt down.”  
  
My cheeks start to burn; I bet they’re flaming red. And I can’t think at all, now. “Huh?”  
  
Pierre rolls his eyes. “Your skirt.” I just stare dumbly at him. He makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Leaning toward me he grabs my skirt and pulls it back down, covering me. I flinch a little; he just shakes his head and mutters, “Pull yourself together.”  
  
Pull myself together? Easier said than done. My body is all a quiver from what has just happened between us. It happened so fast...and ended so quickly. Just a taste...Obviously, Pierre didn’t come over to have sex with me. Even though, due to the contract I have with him, he is within his rights to just take whatever he wants from me.  
  
That’s why I don’t want this anymore...I just feel completely inhuman. I’m nothing to him and I don’t like the feeling of being treated as an object. Even if it does turn me on. Damn him. Just...damn him. I don’t want this. But, there’s no way out of this, not really. I sigh a little, feeling resignation settle in my mind. My New Year’s resolution will have to wait...at least until after Matt’s little visit with me.  
  
Pausing in my thoughts, I glance over at Pierre; he’s looking away from me, leaning back against the kitchen counter. I observe him in silence.  
  
He scratches at the back of his neck; then looks around the kitchen. His expression is calm as if he hadn’t just forced himself onto me and made me do all that, just now. “You got any beer?”  
  
I blink at him, then look down, remembering that my underwear is tangling round my legs. I tug them up, nodding toward the fridge. Pierre heads over and opens the door, rummaging inside. I use the time to readjust my clothes and my state of mind.  
  
Thoughts turn over in my mind, like an engine powering a car. This little visit is all about his control over me. I can see that clearly. When he’d had me pinned against the sink, he had had all the power. And he wants me not to forget it. Well, no way am I even going to entertain the thought of dismissing the fact. Not now. Not after that little scene.  
  
The sound of a metal cap popping off a bottle catches my attention. I look over toward Pierre, again. He’s leaning up against the fridge, bottle of beer held loosely in his right hand. He hasn’t drunk from it yet, he is staring into it, a frown on his face. He must feel me staring at him, because his eyes flip up to meet mine. I bite my lip, hesitating. He appears to search my face for a moment. Then suddenly he smiles, the light touching his eyes.  
  
I wonder at the expression, thinking if he’s happy about something it can’t possibly bode well for me. Pierre taps the bottle against his right thigh, still grinning.  
  
“You didn’t want to say yes to him, did you?” That smile is unnerving. But, he asked a question, didn’t he?  
  
I look down and murmur, “No. I didn’t.” And then I can’t help myself, the words that have been roiling around inside my mind for the past few weeks just fall out of my mouth in a rush. “I didn’t want to say yes to him...or to you...I just want to end all this...I’m not a toy...I don’t want any of this anymore...not anymore...” I trail off, feeling like the water that’s been draining out of the bathtub. I don’t look up, though.  
  
Pierre is silent afterwards, but I can feel his gaze on me, as sure as if he were touching me with his hands. The quiet stretches on; only the sound of my heartbeats and of him drinking from the beer, filling the kitchen.  
  
After what feels like forever, I lift my head to see where Pierre is. He’s still standing by the fridge. His beer is half empty now. He meets my eyes, the smile no longer softening his features. His face is hard again, and I sense he’s about to say something that I probably won’t like.  
  
“You know you don’t have a choice about any of this. Unless of course you want to have to pay your bills by yourself.” He pauses, letting that sink in for a moment. I shake my head. His lips twitch. “Considering that’s not really an option, you’ll just have to deal.”  
  
I nod wearily, shoulders slumping. I knew all along that this would be Pierre’s response to my wanting to end this. Rubbing at my eyes, I mumble low, “I’ll be ready to do whatever I have to...I don’t have to like it, but...” The  _I’ll do what I’m told_  doesn’t have to be said.  
  
“Good.” Pierre pushes away from the fridge, downs the rest of the beer, and then places it carefully in the sink next to the Coke bottle. Giving the room a last cursory glance, he fishes his keys from his back pocket. “I’ll be off then.”  
  
He moves toward the door, but stops for a moment and looks back at me. “By the way...I love the way you taste.” He chuckles and leaves, not letting me respond to his blunt statement.  
  
I stand, stock still at the sink. Just frozen. A tremor races through my body, but then I throw it off and glance toward the calendar on the wall.  
  
Two days. Two days of reprieve and then...  
  
Damn it...I don’t want this. I  _really_  do not want this...but...I’ll just have to deal with it. Just. Have. To. Deal.

 


	2. "I want you to buy a bag of ice."

I feel shitty. My head hurts, my eyes are sore. And I haven’t even drunken any of the vodka that’s sitting on the bench in front of me. By the way, the alcohol isn’t for me. I bought it because I thought maybe he might want to have some after...well, afterwards.  
  
It’s only three O’clock in the afternoon, or so the black hands of my second hand timepiece are telling me. The tattered piece of junk came with me from my childhood home. My parents insisted I take it instead of forking out money I didn’t have to buy a brand new modern clock. Which honestly, I wouldn’t have gone for at any cost. Anyway, it’s hanging on the wall above the sink, staring down at me blankly, counting down the minutes until he arrives.  
  
M Shadows. Matt Sanders. Talk about your garden variety male. He’s definitely not one of them. I still have dreams about that one time when he and Pierre had me in the elevator of the Role Model headquarters. And, I have a feeling that what Matt did to me then is nothing to what he’s capable of.  
  
Sighing, I glance at the clock again. Two minutes since I last checked. I really should get up and do something other than contemplate my navel. I should be cleaning up, or preparing the bedroom, or something. But, even that’s probably pointless, who knows where he wants to do this. He might want to do me on the kitchen bench for all I know.  
  
Ugh, not an image I want in my head, thanks... Trust my mind to work like this. God, if my colleagues at work knew what I did outside of school time...I don’t think I’d have a job anymore. Pierre would love that. He’d probably turn me into his personal sex slave. I practically already am, at any rate. He even called me his ‘little slave’, once. Around the third or fourth time he had me. Kind of unnerving, if you ask me. He did me in the bathroom that time. He’s done me all over my apartment, actually. And in my car too.  
  
Dammit, I need to stop thinking about that. Pushing away from the bench, I wander over to the window. It looks out over a quiet street. Everyone’s either working or at home already drinking, most likely. No work for me, though. No school, considering it’s still the Christmas/New Year’s break.  
  
Part of me wishes I had a permanent teaching job. That way I wouldn’t have to rely on Pierre’s good will...hah. Still, I can’t say he gets more than me from this arrangement. He is as good as his word. As long as I keep doing this for him, I won’t go into debt. So, I have to think of that. Nonetheless, the good Christian side of me balks at all of this, and grates at my conscience. But, I don’t want to become destitute. Ugh...if only I could find some other-  
  
 _Hey this is Pierre from Simple Plan, you’re phone’s ringing...why don’t you pick it up_... I blink and grab my phone. It won’t be Pierre, ‘cause I actually have a different ringtone for his number. Yeah, I know...but for some reason I like to use the Pierre ringtone for other callers.  
  
I answer it hesitantly. “Um, hello?”  
  
 _“I want you to buy a bag of ice.”_  It’s Matt. I sit up as if he can see that I was slouching. He goes on.  _“And a pair of handcuffs. There’s an adult shop a block away from your apartment. They’re open until four.”_  
  
I glance toward the clock. I have forty-five minutes. I don’t bother asking how he knows where the store is. He’s obviously scoped the place out. And, I know he’s telling the truth, because I’ve been there before. Yes, I’m not all innocent, even if it took Pierre to corrupt me sexually.  
  
I swallow hard. “Ice and handcuffs. Right. Anything else?”  
  
Matt chuckles low,  _“No. I have everything else I need. And Pierre tells me you have a few items handy in your bedroom.”_  
  
I scowl. Trust Pierre to tell the world that I have toys to play with. As far as he’s concerned I have no secrets from him. And obviously the fact that Matt knows is a reminder to me of my position in this equation. I give a little snort. Matt laughs.  
  
 _“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”_  
  
Bit hard to be enthusiastic when one’s being forced into this situation. I don’t mention that, though. Instead, I muster an eager tone as I respond to his statement.  
  
“I can’t wait for tonight, sir.”  
  
 _“Don’t lie,”_  Matt growls.  _“But, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy tonight.”_  I tremble; he makes it sound like a threat.  _“Be waiting.”_  
  
He hangs up before I can say another word in my defence. Sighing, I shove the phone in my back pocket and grab my keys. Better go get those things.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It’s dark out. Street lights flicker directly outside the living room window. It’s cool in the entrance room, notably so, considering I’m not wearing any clothing. The floor is hard beneath my knees; my left leg is already falling asleep. Shifting to get comfortable, I glance toward the front door. It is open a crack and the chill night air squeezes through, causing my skin to tingle.  
  
I sigh, straining to hear every little sound coming from outside the apartment block. The distant sound of traffic reaches my ears. Not a lot of people are out on the roads. Any who are will be travelling, either from work or perhaps to the bottle shops, buying their last party supplies. All my supplies are in the kitchen.  
  
I can picture the ice bag that I bought. The entire contents are in a plastic bucket sitting next to the dining table. Hah, I almost put dining room table...but I don’t have a dining room, not really. Just a pitiful square table covered with a tatty old table cloth, sitting in the corner of the main room of the apartment. It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the kitchen. Because it’s so out of place. But, it does me; I mean I’m not a fancy person. But, I like my creature comforts, and as long as the table doesn’t fall apart, it’ll do.  
  
Rubbing at my forehead, I glance at the door again. Matt didn’t give me a time. He just said he was coming sometime tonight. It could be anywhere between now and midnight. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later. I had to take an aspirin earlier, and I’m not sure how long it will last before my head starts aching again. With any luck, it’ll work like it usually does and I won’t have a headache until tomorrow. A sex hangover...  
  
There’s a step outside my door, a heavy footfall against the wire doormat. Straightening my back, I lay my hands on my knees and look toward the door expectantly. It swings open almost of its own volition. Of course, he has to have pushed it, but from my position it appears otherwise. He stands there in silhouette, a dark shadow against the night sky. Due to the lack of light in the entrance room, it is hard to discern his features. However, his massive frame fills the doorway.  
  
I can feel his stare searing into my skin. Then he smirks. And steps into the apartment. I blink at him. He’s dressed warmly, all dark clothing including a black beanie and scarf combo, which adds to the bulk of his body. He continues to stare at me, causing my skin to shiver. Only for a moment does he look away, to close the door, locking it behind him, of course.  
  
Then he turns his attention to me. Trembling, I can feel his eyes raking over my body, probably imagining all he’s going to do to me tonight. I lower my eyes unable to meet his stare; it’s burning like two candles in the dark.  
  
He approaches me while stripping his layers off. I watch from lowered lids as his scarf, beanie, and jacket end up on the floor behind him. And then he’s standing with the toes of his shoes almost touching my knees. They’re black leather dress shoes that have been freshly buffed, shiny, clean. The laces are neatly tied.  
  
Matt clears his throat from above me. I peek up at him. He smirks.  
  
“Take my shoes off.” No pleases, no thank yous. But, I’m not expecting any of those tonight. No, this night, I’m the slave, and he’s the master.  
  
Reaching forward, I quickly unlace his shoes. He lifts his feet so I can remove them, and set them aside. He isn’t wearing any socks, so I am confronted by his bare feet. His toenails are surprisingly well looked after for a guy. I tear my gaze from his feet, allowing them to travel up the suit pants he’s wearing. I have to say, he dresses well for a guy in a band. Not that men in bands don’t dress well...  
  
“Stand up.”  
  
I blink out of my contemplation and look up to his face. He lifts his eyebrows at me. Swallowing nervously, I get to my feet. He towers almost a foot above me, and it is extremely unnerving. Standing though, I’m at least more on a level with him. Not by much, but it is something, considering his size.  
  
Matt examines me in silence, his eyes shifting over my body, taking in every inch of bare skin. Then he extends a hand and brushes the backs of his fingers against my left cheek. I tremble at his touch and involuntarily flinch back. His eyes narrow. Responding to the hint of irritation in his gaze I force myself to stand still, and try to relax. He must sense this because he gently trails a fingertip over my bottom lip giving a low growl of approval.  
  
“Good girl.” Matt’s voice is low, yet there is no emotion evident.  
  
I blink at his statement, keeping my breaths steady. He smirks, before stepping past me further into my apartment. As he heads toward the door leading to the kitchen he pauses to look back at me.  
  
“Did you get those things?”  
  
I nod, not trusting my voice. He chuckles.  
  
“Very good. Where are they?”  
  
I point in the direction he’s walking. “Kitchen.”  
  
A smirk flashes across Matt’s face, as he turns and continues into the kitchen. He doesn’t pause to see if I’m following. It’s obviously a given. He enters the kitchen, with me several feet behind him. He pauses for a moment, taking in the sparse layout. And then he heads for the counter where the bucket of ice is sitting, the pair of handcuffs resting up against it.  
  
Without a word, he lifts the cuffs and spins them around on his fingers. Then he dips a finger in the ice bucket and smiles to himself. He glances back toward me, crooking a finger at me. Come here.  
  
Biting my lip, I shuffle to stand in front of him. I vaguely note that with his winter layers gone, he’s wearing a tight black wife-beater, which shows off his arms. The ink that is etched there gives him an intimidating appearance, but even without them, he throws off this aura of masculinity that is extremely overpowering. His eyes feel as if they are stripping me, looking directly into my soul. I tremble at his appraisal.  
  
But then, he looks away over to the kitchen table. “Hmm...tell me, how sturdy is that table?”  
  
I glance over frowning a little. “I’m not sure. A cousin of mine fell asleep on it once. He’s a big guy...probably same as you...it kind of creaked under him, but-”  
  
“Right,” Matt interrupts, roughly, “go over there and lie down on it, face down.”  
  
Blinking at him, I wonder if I have heard him correctly. “Face down?”  
  
His eyes harden. “You’re not going to argue with me now, are you?”  
  
He lifts a hand and runs the knuckles against my cheek; a chill runs down my spine at his touch. I shake my head, sharply. Arguing will definitely not be a wise move on my part.  
  
“Go on, then.” Matt looks pointedly toward the table.  
  
I go over, shivering in fearful anticipation. Hesitating, I turn my eyes back at him. He crosses his arms a severe look on his face. Taking a deep breath, I brace my upper body against the surface, and then shimmy my way onto the top. Not sure how he wants me, I wait, trembling.  
  
Matt growls low from behind me. Then I hear his feet pad over the floor approaching the table. My breath catches as he places a firm hand at the small of my back. I hold still, straining, waiting. The clink of the cuffs reaches my ears, a metallic sound signalling a promise of erotic pleasures.  
  
Matt gives me no time to think. He slides his hands to my arms, pulling them together at the wrists behind my back. I gasp as the cool steel of the cuffs close snug round my slender limbs, an effective restraint. He gives them a little tug, before moving his hands to my hips and shifting my body further onto the table.  
  
Trembling, I realise in this position I am completely vulnerable. He can access both my ass and pussy without too much difficulty and there’s no way I can prevent it. That thought should not be a turn on, but damn...I can feel moisture gathering between my legs.  
  
“Stay.”  
  
Matt slaps the left cheek of my ass, and steps away from the table. I tremble, clenching my hands then relaxing them.  
  
Breathing as steady as I can, I listen to his steps as he moves from me toward, I think, the kitchen bench. My thought is confirmed as I hear him shift the bucket of ice, obviously lifting it in his arms. Then he returns and sets it down next to the table.  
  
I shiver unable to fathom what he might do with the ice. I kind of thought it was an odd request at the time. I mean, what can one do with a whole lot of ice which is even remotely sexual?  
  
I guess I’m about to find out...


	3. "Come for me."

“Very nice...”  
  
Trembling, I dig my fingers into the palms of my hands as an ice cold tingle trickles along my spine. Matt is leaning over me a piece of ice in one hand, tracing it down the line of my back. I moan softly, wriggling my hips a little. He places a hand at the small of my back, pinning me to the table.  
  
“Don’t move,” Matt growls. I hold still, biting at my bottom lip.  
  
He chuckles before sliding the ice to my butt crack. Fluid trickles over the curve of my ass, dripping over the back of my thighs, between my legs. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. His hand follows the trail of ice-cold liquid, smoothing it over my skin causing goose-bumps to scatter across the surface. I whimper as I hear him grab another piece and repeat the journey over my body.  
  
Nerve endings that I never even knew existed begin to fire all over me, my senses heightening to an almost unbearable level. Matt picks up on this and trails hot fingers along my spine again, drawing a low groan from my throat.  
  
“Please...” I have no idea what I’m begging for, but I’m hoping Matt will ease whatever need he draws from me.  
  
Matt drags fingers through my hair, pulling my head back a little so he can meet my eyes. “Please what?”  
  
I whimper again, breaths coming fast in anticipation. “I...I don’t know...” Because I really don’t know, I’m just feeling so much right now. And the frightening thing is that it hasn’t taken much for him to get me in this state. I don’t think it’s even been ten minutes since I he got me on the table. And already I’m whining and moaning like a bitch in heat. Maybe it’s the ice...perhaps it enhances ones arousal.  
  
My whole body tightens in shock as a jolt of burning cold hits my most sensitive of spots, and a moment later I realise Matt has placed an ice cube against my clit. Gasping, breath catching in my throat, I strain against the cuffs around my wrists, as if I can break free and get away from the almost painful sensation. But there is pleasure there too, a spicy tang that surges through my body.  
  
“You know now?” Matt asks voice rasping, low and dangerous.  
  
Trembling, I pant a little, writhing on the table-top. He rests a hand on my back; I go still, laying my cheek against the surface.  
  
“Do you?” He strokes my back in slow, gentle movements. I relax against the table, breaths slowing as I gather my thoughts into a coherent package in my mind.  
  
“Yes...” I squeal out at the end of my response, as he slips the still quite solid piece of ice inside me. The walls clench involuntarily around the rapidly melting object. The iciness spreads right to my core, sending chills through my body.  
  
“Hmmm,” his tone is thoughtful. “Let’s see how much you can take...” He runs his palm up and down my spine as he pushes the ice bucket closer to the table.  
  
I twist my head around as far as I can to see what he’s doing. He smirks at me, before getting another ice cube. I groan out as he lifts my hips a little giving him easier access. He very slowly rubs it against my pussy lips, and then presses the cube into me, the heat within causing the edges to melt. I have to let my head drop; I can’t hold it up and concentrate on what he’s doing to me.  
  
Another piece follows soon after then a couple more; after each one he pauses and leans in close, obviously watching my response. I guess I don’t disappoint, as my pussy clenches on each intrusion, frozen liquid mingling with the juices inside me, and trickling down the insides of my thighs.  
  
Matt hisses through his teeth. “Fuck, that’s hot...”  
  
After the last piece he gets closer; I can feel his breath on my pussy. I squirm a little. He growls, holding me still, before leaning right in and licking at the drips of water. Whining out at the contact, the contrast of heat and cold almost sends me over the edge.  
  
“Matt...”  
  
He pulls back, bringing his hand down firm against my ass cheek in a loud slap. I jump in shock and wriggle on the table. He pushes my body down hard, leaning over me.  
  
“What do you call me?” Matt snarls.  
  
I whimper, pussy clenching at the menace lacing his voice. Yeah, I almost forgot; I’m playing the whole submissive role. He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of my ass.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“Sir...” My voice shakes from the intensity of the situation. He relaxes his grip, stroking a calloused palm over the tender skin. Then he slides his hand between my legs again, cupping my pussy, his thumb searching out my clit, pressing it hard. Bucking to his hand, I feel like I’m about to fly apart.  
  
He rubs his thumb against me, firmly. I’m so close, right there...about to explode.  
  
And then, he stops. Matt pulls his hand away and moves away from the table. I groan in protest and try to rub myself against the surface. He growls, seizing my hips and pulling me roughly off the table, so my lower half is hanging off the edge and I can’t get myself off.  
  
“You’ll come when I say.” Matt’s voice is hard. “Not any sooner.”  
  
Whimpering, I can’t get any leverage and so I wait, on edge, for whatever he has planned next.  
  
Matt stands behind me, silent, and unmoving. All that reaches my ears is the sound of his breaths, slow and steady. I can’t understand how he can be so calm when I feel so tense and on the verge of combusting.  
  
After what feels like forever, and I sense my need ease somewhat, I hear Matt move back toward the table. I bite at my bottom lip as he steps closer, feeling the material of his pants brush against the back of my thighs. He places his hands on my hips and rubs himself against my ass. His size is absolutely inspiring. My stomach clenches in anticipation of what is ahead.  
  
He growls low and then releases my hips, moving back again; and then I hear the jingle of his belt, and the quiet hiss of the zipper. Shuffling and then the sound of pants being dropped on the floor. I tremble, straining to hear every little thing he’s doing. I could turn my head, but part of me wants to keep the mystery there; part of it is a fear thing. I don’t want to see Matt’s eyes. I’m afraid of what I’ll see in them. And so, I wait, sucking at my tongue, my cheek resting on the tabletop once more, my eyes half-shut.  
  
He grabs my hips again, laying his cock against my ass. I swallow hard as he rubs the length over my skin.  
  
“Feel this?”  
  
I always wonder why guys ask that; maybe they just do it to get more than just a moan from the woman. Closing my eyes, I murmur in answer; I have no idea what words I actually use. Matt chuckles low, lifting my hips and spreading my legs with his body. I whimper as he hooks an arm under my waist, hoisting me up and back. He slides himself along the outer lips making me gasp at the contact.  
  
He rocks his hips for several moments, teasing me. I whine in need, juices trickling from within me.  
  
“Please.”  
  
Matt presses against me. “Tell me.”  
  
“Need you inside...” In this position there’s no way for me to manipulate him; I’m completely at his mercy. He strokes my hips, the head nestling between the wet folds. I moan, waiting, hoping that he’ll take me.  
  
He holds still for long moments and then I cry out as, with very little warning, he pushes into me.  
  
His girth stretches me; my body has to adjust to his size. However, it’s as if my pussy remembers the last time he was inside me, because it takes him without complaint. I feel so full, but it’s not painful. I have to concentrate on breathing as he penetrates, because at this angle he probes in as deep as possible. It’s overwhelming.  
  
Matt remains still inside me, stroking my back gently as he gives me to time to relax beneath him, which I’m particularly grateful for, considering the vulnerable position I’m in. I clench a little, tightening the walls around his hard length. He growls low and bucks against me. Then he tightens his grip on my hips; I shiver in anticipation.  
  
He chuckles. “This what you want?” As he asks, he slowly begins to pull out. Before I can make any response, he plunges right back in, the head brushing roughly against that sweet spot deep within. All ability to think straight vanishes as he begins to move inside my body.  
  
Only one coherent thought manages to make it through to my brain as Matt handles my body.  _He feels better than Pierre...better...and much bigger..._  Of course, even that thought slides away, as he pounds into me.  
  
Even though he’s supporting my body with his hands, each thrust causes my breasts to press into the table, and it’s slightly uncomfortable. I groan at the force he’s exerting and wriggle my top half in discomfort.  
  
Matt pauses, murmuring, a question that surprises me a little. “You okay?”  
  
Blinking, I try to find an answer; my stomach trembles as he shifts a little, the movement causing his cock to press deeper inside my pussy. I clench again on him. He strokes a hand over my back.  
  
“You okay?” he repeats in a low voice.  
  
I whimper. “Breasts...hurt...”  
  
He moves quickly; hooking an arm under my torso he shifts his hips and pulls me back against his chest. Holding me, he slides his hands between our bodies and manages to slip the cuffs from my wrists, a soft click sounding as he releases the catch. They drop onto the floor and lie there to be forgotten. He nuzzles into the back of my neck, his other arm wrapping firmly around my waist.  
  
“Hold onto the table...” Matt mumbles against my sticky skin. I do as he says, gripping the edge in a tight grasp. He keeps his arm around my waist, supporting my upper torso as he begins to move again.  
  
I am soon thankful that we changed positions, because he picks up the pace. The table groans in protest as he pounds into me; his arm tight at my waist the only thing keeping me in place. At each thrust, he hits the sweet spot deep inside me, and all I can do in response is make soft gasping cries. Barely any sound escapes past my lips. It’s almost too much. I don’t even think I’m consciously moving on him, but his low grunts of approval means I must be doing something right.  
  
“Come on,” he murmurs, bucking against my spot. “Keep clenching...” I clench. And clench again. And again. He growls. “Yes, just. Like. That...”  
  
I moan at the feel of his cock filling me, every inch hitting the tender spots inside me. I’m getting closer, I know it; I’m aching for it. Matt shifts a little, slipping his free hand beneath me, hand sliding down over my mound. I tremble and then give a strangled cry as his thumb comes into contact with the sweetest spot of all.  
  
He chuckles, still moving. “Close...?”  
  
“Yes...” I barely get the word out as he presses his thumb firmly against me. My whole body tightens in response, I feel like I’m about to burst into a thousand pieces. Matt pumps faster. I can’t tell if he’s almost there, but I feel that if I don’t come now I might die.  
  
He snarls, pounding into me. “Come for me.”  
  
His thumb is moving furiously against my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. The combination of his strong movements and the inexorable stimulation of my sweet spot drive me right to the edge. I cry out, clamping down on him, hard, fingers digging into the table top. My release is so intense that I know if Matt didn’t have such a firm grasp on my body I probably would slide off the table. He holds onto me, his thumb still pressing against my spot, not moving, just resting there.  
  
Quivering, I eventually relax against the table, panting. I drop my head down against the table, breathing slowly. Matt removes his hand from under my body and runs the palm along my spine.  
  
“Good girl,” his tone is soft. The praise warms me from the inside, and I allow a fleeting smile to pass across my lips. But then, I realise something and clench on him again.  
  
Matt groans. I twist a little so I can look back at him.  
  
“You...didn’t finish...” I say in a halting voice. This worries me, you understand. Normally, with Pierre, if he doesn’t finish, he gets mad. So, every time he takes me, I always, always try my hardest to get him to finish, somehow or other. At any rate, most of the time, I’m the one who doesn’t get to finish. To Pierre, his pleasure always comes before mine. I’m not used to being given so much without having to reciprocate.  
  
Of course, I’m sure Matt will exact some form of revenge on me for not finishing this time round. The look in his eyes promises me that the night is far from over. It is New Year’s Eve.  
  
Anyway, I’d be a liar if I don’t admit that a part of me really wants to continue, a part of me doesn’t want this to end here. I want both of us to be satisfied, and not just out of a sense of obligation. It’s beginning to feel like something more. But, perhaps that’s just my hormones talking...  
  
There is silence and then Matt withdraws and steps back from me. I shiver for a moment, and then slowly push away from the table. I’m a little sore from our activity, and so I stretch my arms and legs, before turning to face him, leaning back against the edge of the table. I glance up at him, then, pressing my thighs together.  
  
My body is still tense, my pussy still tingling, wet. I’m thinking about what might happen next, many different scenarios springing to mind, only to fall away into oblivion to be replaced by others.  
  
Matt smirks down at me, probably reading the thoughts that are flashing across my face. I’m quite transparent in that regard. Pierre has pointed that out to me on many an occasion.  
  
“The night is young.” Matt smirks more, echoing my earlier sentiment, his words sending chills down my spine. “And, I’m not done with you, yet.”


	4. "You won't say no."

Matt sits on a chair tilting his glass, looking down into it with an expression of utmost concentration on his face. I sit opposite him observing him in silence.  
  
I got the bottle of vodka from the bench and we’re having a couple of shots each. Matt says he wants to loosen me up a little more; he reckons I’m tense, or something. Can you blame me? I’m in a situation that my head is telling me I want no part of.  
  
Of course, my body has different ideas. It’s enjoying the party. Traitor.  
  
“Tell me something,” Matt mumbles into his glass. I blink at him, looking confused I guess. His lips twitch as he lowers his glass, smiling at me. “Tell me. What do you  _really_  think of Pierre?”  
  
Staring at him, I try to force my mind around the question he’s just put to me. No one has ever asked me about my feelings, or about what I think. Least of all anything to do with the dominant male in my life. Then again Matt isn’t ‘no one’.  
  
Still, I don’t really know how to answer. I haven’t ever really thought about what I think of Pierre. I mean, I think  _about_  him. But, that’s different right? You can think about something without thinking of it.  
  
Instead, I ask a question in return. “Why do you want to know?”  
  
Matt sets his glass on the table, leaning forward. “Let’s just say, I’m curious.”  
  
I wrinkle my nose. “Curiosity killed the cat, y’know.”  
  
He laughs, throwing his head back. The sound makes my stomach clench, but not unpleasantly. Inexplicable warmth spreads all over my body. The flush reaches my cheeks, and I just know my face is turning pink. Matt tilts his head, his eyes fixing on the rising blush. I can tell, because his gaze is burning a hole against my skin.  
  
“You’re blushing. You thinking ‘bout him?”  
  
Lowering my eyes, I shake my head. He chuckles low. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor reaches my ears next, and then I feel his hand resting against my left leg. My skin tingles where he makes contact.  
  
“What’re you thinking about then, hmm?” As he asks, he slowly traces the tips of his fingers up the inside of my leg.  
  
I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus on his words.  
  
“Uh...” I can’t get any words of my own out, though.  
  
All my nerve fibres are on edge, straining at his touch. Matt smirks, his fingers pausing at the crook of my knee. Trembling, I meet his gaze. There’s darkness in his eyes, which goes beyond the colour. I bite my lip, gripping the frame of the chair, hard, feeling the sweat on my palms melding to the metal.  
  
Matt licks at his lips, a slow sensual motion of the tip of his tongue. Images of where that appendage might end up, flash through my mind and send a shot of pleasure directly to my core. I let out a soft whimper at the thoughts and shiver more.  
  
He growls, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”  
  
His hand continues its journey up my leg as he makes his demand. I am torn between attempting a response and the way my insides are clenching at what he might be planning.  
  
A soft whimpering reaches my ears just as a sharp pain refocuses my attention. I glance down, realising he’s just pinched me.  
  
“Tell me.” There’s an edge to his voice.  
  
I clear my throat, roughly, eyes watering a little. “You...I...I’m thinking about...you...”  
  
Way to be honest, and kind of shocking. Because to be frank, I don’t ever think any other man has managed to impact me as much as Matt has. Even Pierre hasn’t ever registered so strongly on my mind.  
  
The thing is...after that incident in the elevator, my thoughts have been occupied, not by Pierre and the whole  _arrangement_  I have with him. But with Matt and whether I would ever see him again. And, right now? While we’re sitting here? I’m thinking about him. Just...him.  
  
Matt’s eyes widen slightly, as if he too is surprised by the revelation. But then the shock is masked by a cocky grin and he moves his chair closer, his hand pressing down against my leg. I tremble, breathing a little faster, eyes darting to where he’s touching.  
  
“Interesting,” he murmurs as his gaze lowers so it’s focussing between my legs. “What exactly?”  
  
Swallowing several times, I try to get words to come out, but I can’t concentrate, the touch of his heated stare sending my mind into a spin. He growls and leans in close so his face is mere inches from mine.  
  
“Tell me.  _Or_  we end this. Here. Now.”  
  
I stare at him. He’s absolutely serious. There’s no amusement in his eyes. He just waits for my response.  
  
Shit. I don’t want him to stop. I’m too far gone to end this. Shaking my head, I try to find that tiny spark of courage I know is somewhere inside me. Normally, I have no say in any of this. At least, Pierre never gives me any chance to tell him what I like, or want. Unless he demands it of me. I am so not used to this.  
  
Matt lifts his eyebrows. “Well?”  
  
He’s getting impatient. But, it’s okay, because I think I know what to say now.  
  
Clearing my throat, I bite the bullet and launch myself off the edge of the precipice. “You going down on me...and,” my voice quavers then strengthens, “getting me off.”  
  
Matt cocks his head to the side. “Is that all?”  
  
He’s pressing me now. But I’m not sure I feel ready to oblige. His hand moves closer to my mound; I shiver, digging my fingers into the metal frame of the chair.  
  
“No...I...” My words falter, as I follow the path his hand is taking.  
  
“You?” he prompts, his tone almost gentle.  
  
I shut my eyes tight, unable to handle the somewhat tender expression that’s softening his features. I feel him lean in even closer, his warm breath a light touch against my clammy skin.  
  
Forcing myself to answer, though, my voices quivers as if I’m about to burst into tears. “I want. I want you to...uh...”  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Matt begins to rub at my leg, a slow soothing stroke. His question wrenches at something inside me, and I open my eyes to meet his with an imploring look. He tilts his head at me.  
  
I blink once then murmur, “Make me forget about him.”  
  
Matt’s brows draw tight over his eyes. But, then he smiles, lazily, his fingers tracing patterns over my skin. I shiver at his touch. He chuckles low, before removing his hand and sitting back. Crossing his ankles, he lifts a hand and rubs slowly at his jaw a thoughtful expression covering his features. I wait quietly, wondering what he’s thinking.  
  
A devious smirk plays across his lips, giving me pause. Maybe I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
Too late. I think I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking he can oblige. It’s in the cocky grin that’s twisting his lips. It’s in the cool glint in his eyes. He seems very confident. Whether that’s good or bad, remains to be seen. Still, I am sure, right now that I want this.  
  
I nod slowly. “Yes, sir.”  
  
There’s a heartbeat of silence then Matt’s face hardens once more. “Right.” He leans forward. “Go to the bedroom and get ready for me.” He studies me for a moment then adds, “If you have any scarves, get them.”  
  
“Scarves?” I blink, questioningly at him. Yes, I know...I’m a little naive. Or at least, I’m acting it. I think I know what he’s probably planning to do with them.  
  
Matt frowns at me. “Yes. Two or three will do.”  
  
I bite my lip in hesitation.  
  
He narrows his eyes at me. “You can’t say no to me now. If you do, I won’t stop. Understand?”  
  
I blink at him then murmur, “If I say no...that’d be rape...”  
  
Matt growls, “You won’t say it.”  
  
“But if I do...and you won’t stop...” I tilt my chin down slightly, as I repeat what I just said, “It’d be rape...”  
  
He sits back and gives me a long, calculated look. Then he sits forward again and lays a hand on my thigh. I tremble at his touch, blushing a little. He rubs gently, smiling. I lift my eyes to his. He smiles more.  
  
“It’s going to be okay...you won’t say no.” He pauses then says, “I won’t give you any reason to say it.”  
  
Part of me protests against his words, but the other is warming to his confidence. He sounds so sure of his ability to convince me, to seduce me. And, at any rate, I can hardly object. I did say I wanted this.  
  
I nod slightly. “Okay...”  
  
Matt grins, like a kid who has gotten all the candy he can eat. But, I guess I’m better than candy.  
  
“Go on then. Get ready for me.”  
  
I stare at him for a moment. He’s still smiling. Those dimples of his, they’re an absolute killer.  
  
Then, wrapping my arms about my own torso, I force myself to my feet, and away from him. I need to put some distance between us, just to give me room to pull myself together. Considering everything that’s gone on so far, I need this space even if it’s only for a small moment of time.  
  
I try to ignore the look in his eyes, lowering my head as I walk to the door.  
  
Even so, as I head for the bedroom, I can feel his gaze following me out. Thoughts of what’s to come fill my mind and tingles of anticipation sweep through me. He’s going to deliver, I know it. And, I hate to admit it, but he’s right.  
  
I’m not going to say no.  
  
But, knowing me, that’s really not surprising at all.


	5. "Happy New Year."

Matt hasn’t made any move toward me, just yet. He’s sitting on the only chair in my room; he has one of the scarves I found in his hands and is slowly twisting it in knots. His mind seems to be far away, as if he’s pondering the mysteries of the universe. Meanwhile, I’m lying on the bed, on my side, observing him.  
  
His eyes lift from the scarf, expression surprisingly open. I tilt my head at him. He pulls the strip of material between his thumb and fingers, frowning a little.  
  
“You know...” he pauses then finishes, “I’m married...right?”  
  
I blink at him, shaking my head. “No...Pierre never mentioned that.”  
  
Just my luck; I start warming to the guy and find he’s already taken. But then Pierre is engaged, so there’s not really any difference. And considering Matt’s here, doing this, he has no room to make any statements concerning his fidelity.  
  
He studies me for a long moment as if gauging my reaction to his statement. Then he stands, approaching the bed.  
  
“On your back.” The command is given softly, but I can hear the stern note to it and obey without hesitation. Shifting onto my back, I breathe deeply, peering up at him. He’s tugging at the scarf in his hands, twisting it a little as his gaze meets mine. He’s going to do something with that...I’m not sure what, yet...  
  
Matt smiles faintly, saying, “Arms over your head...and,” he licks his lips, “close your eyes.”  
  
Biting my lip, a little nervous, I lift my arms, crossing them at the wrists and allow my eyelids to shut the light out from me. I tremble a little, but remain still, waiting. There’s a heartbeat of nothing then I feel his weight on the mattress, it sinks down as he gets up on the bed. I swallow hard as he moves over my body; I can feel his breath on my skin it sending tingles through my body.  
  
And then he closes a hand on one of my arms, squeezing in a tender gesture. My throat chokes up at his touch and I begin to tremble more. He obviously feels this because he rubs at my arm soothingly.  
  
“Shhh...it’s okay. You’re doing good...” Matt murmurs as I feel the strip of material being pulled around my wrists. He secures it, not too tight but enough to let me know I’m not getting out of this. Then he runs the backs of his fingers along my right arm to the crook of my elbow. The nerve endings tingle at his touch and I allow a soft moan to escape.  
  
He chuckles, and I shiver as he shifts even closer over me. I feel his weight settle against me and I begin to moisten between my legs in response to his closeness.  
  
Matt doesn’t move or say anything for a long while; all I hear are his slow, steady breaths. Then after what seems like an indeterminably long time, he murmurs in a low voice.  
  
“I told her about you...y’know?” He slides his hand down my side. I shiver, breathing a little faster, mind spinning at his confession.  
  
“Told her?” I ask carefully. What could he possibly have to say about me to his wife?  
  
Matt chuckles; his hand travels over my lower belly, causing the skin to tighten there. I buck slightly. He presses his hand against me; I go still again.  
  
“Yeah, I don’t keep anything from her.” He traces the pad of his thumb in slow circles around my belly button, kneading gently. “She trusts me...do  _you_  trust me?”  
  
His question surprises me, not in the least because it’s unexpected. I don’t really know how to answer; I just keep breathing. Matt chuckles softly, moving his hand lower. I quiver as I feel the heat of his skin against mine and then it’s like a sudden, yet slow, burn as he rests his palm over my mound. I whimper, and then his thumb rubs against my rapidly moistening slit.  
  
“Do you?” he repeats.  
  
I still can’t respond; I’m trembling all over and fighting not to push him. I spread my legs a little more, but strain not to press up to him; absolutely certain he will go there when he’s good and ready.  
  
“Hmmm, very nice...” Matt murmurs and then he pushes his thumb into me.  
  
I gasp out and clench instantly on the digit, feeling the walls grab onto him. He holds it there for a long while; I can feel his gaze on me, boring into my flesh. His fingers are splayed over my mound as he slowly begins to move his thumb in and out. Responding to him, I shift and clench, letting out a low moan.  
  
“Like that...?”  
  
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Matt growls softly and keeps up the slow, steady motion. I hear rustling then something smooth, flimsy being drawn along my body; the second scarf. His thumb slips from inside me. I buck to his hand, whining at the loss of contact.  
  
“Patience.” Matt presses my hips back down to the bed, before trailing the scarf over my breasts and up my neck.  
  
Breathing deeply, I part my eyelids a little. He cocks an eyebrow at me. I flush, closing them again. He chuckles, propping his body above mine. Then he proceeds to slip the scarf over my eyes, and lifting my head a little, ties it at the back. Allowing my head to fall back, I settle down to just feel what’s going on.  
  
Matt slides back down my body, trailing his palms down my sides, pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin. Heat flares at each spot he touches. I fight not to arch to his hands, feeling their pressure on my body, a subtle warning. Instead, I just strain to feel everything he does, following with my mind the movement that he makes.  
  
He halts just before he reaches my mound; feeling his breath on my skin down below. I shiver then let out a soft gasp as, sliding one hand down, placing his palm over my mound, he slowly, tortuously slides one finger down along my pussy. I can’t prevent the whine that escapes. Matt lets it slide, teasing my entrance, drawing soft mewling sounds from me. I can’t stop them, and lock my muscles to stop from bucking to him.  
  
“Please…” I barely even register my own voice as he continues to stroke at my lips. All my attention is focussing on what  _he’s_  doing down there, and not really on my own feelings.  
  
Matt chuckles. “Please?”  
  
I moan out at the tone in his voice, feeling as if I’ll burst even before he’s really begun. As it is, a trickle of fluid escapes, and I whimper in need.  
  
“Hmmm, you’re so wet for me…” Matt growls huskily.  
  
I almost gush at his words, and roll my hips up toward him. He groans as if in pain, and perhaps he is; most likely he’s hard again and will need to ease his arousal. I’m expectant and nervous all at once, wondering what he’ll do next.  
  
There’s a pause, barely a single breath of hesitation and then I have to hold back a cry as the next thing I know, his very hot, very moist mouth is sealed over my core. He grabs my hips in a hard grip, pinning them to prevent me from moving up to him. Matt is in complete control, and all I can do is trust him to steer me true.  
  
If you’ve never had a guy go down on you before, it’s kind of shocking. It’s so damn intimate, almost more so than actual sex… that it’s almost beyond description… my mind right now is a complete blank. All I am now is a mass of nerves, feeling, just feeling what he’s doing. My body is surely reacting, but I can’t fathom anything.  
  
I take several quick breaths, just to release with a wail, as Matt does something absolutely amazing with his tongue, pulling everything he can from my body. I’m wound up so tight that when I reach the pinnacle of the high, I don’t even realise until everything crashes down around me.  
  
Panting, I come down, body shaking, arms trembling in my bonds. Matt lifts his head up; I feel his skin leave mine.  
  
He growls, “You got me so fucking hard…”  
  
I shiver at his words and let out a soft moan. He chuckles. The mattress shifts beneath us as he slides up my body. His big hands grip my shoulders, pressing them down against the bed. His hot breath sears my skin as he leans close to me. Then I blink in surprise as he pulls the scarf away from my eyes.  
  
Matt smirks down at me. “I want to see your eyes for this next part.” He slides between my legs, giving me a good feel of how hot and ready he is for me.  
  
I clench in anticipation, getting even wetter at the slow burn that begins to overwhelm me. Matt groans, rubbing his cock head in the moistness between my legs. I gasp at the sensation. He smiles down at me, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. We pause for a moment, gazes locking together. He holds, sliding his palms down the outsides of my thighs then slips them between my legs and back up, spreading me just a little more for him.  
  
“Ready?” Matt asks in a voice taut with desire.  
  
Biting my lip, I wonder whether it matters. He tilts his head to one side, an eyebrow lifting slightly. He doesn’t press, though, just waits, the head poised at the entrance, stiff, hard. I glance down, noting the pre cum hanging at the tip. He rubs against my lips, watching me, watching him.  
  
I close my eyes for a breath, before opening them again and giving a barely perceptible nod. Matt growls low as he takes that as a signal of affirmation. My breath catches as he pushes into me, opening my body, filling me.  
  
“Beautiful…” he murmurs as he sinks all the way inside me, running his hands gently up and down my sides. I clench lightly, looking up into his eyes. There are so many different emotions in his gaze, I can’t explain what they are, and all I can do is moan as he begins to move.  
  
Matt takes his time, evidently in no rush to end this. His eyes are hooded, twinkling beneath the lashes, lust and desire mixing in together. I strain to feel every inch of him, clenching and moving with him, my breaths quickening as the pleasure intensifies. He seems to pick up on this, because he calculates his strokes to heighten the tension even further, pressing and easing off in a maddening cycle of feeling.  
  
I gasp for breath, as he pushes me further than I think I’ve been before. Matt braces his hands on either side of my body, the muscles in his arms, his shoulders, bunching in powerful motion as he moves harder, deeper, reaching every inch of me from the inside and pulling me apart.  
  
Closing my eyes for a heartbeat I feel a hot rush go through me, hitting me right at the core. And then Matt’s thumb comes down on my sweet spot and I’m completely gone. Coherent thought escapes me, as he continues to press into me, growling as he brings us both near to completion.  
  
I can honestly say, I don’t remember reaching my peak, or Matt, either. It seems to roll over the both of us in a wave and then the next I remember is Matt breathing hard above me. His arms, still bracing either side of my body, are trembling a little, the hard muscle taut from his exertions. Sheen of sweat covers his torso, his face. His eyes are half-closed as he catches his breath above me.  
  
My own breaths are shallow, quick as I come down as well. At least I’m on my back, I don’t feel like I’m about to collapse.  
  
He blinks and withdraws, sitting back on the bed between my spread thighs. I feel empty at his sudden departure from my body. An ache fills me, and I wonder at it. It’s a very different sensation to the one I get after… I squeeze my eyes shut to push that thought away. When I open them again, I meet Matt’s stare.  
  
A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing, though just watches me, giving me space to clear my head.  
  
I take several deep breaths, before glancing up at my bound hands. Matt gives a soft chuckle.  
  
“Give me your hands.”  
  
I shuffle into an upright position and hold them in front of me. He tugs at the knot, unravelling it then takes my wrists in his hands, rubbing them.  
  
I murmur, not really sure what else to say, “Thank you, sir…”  
  
Matt laughs, his dimples showing and the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You can call me ‘Matt’ now. That ‘sir’ shit gets a bit old.”  
  
I blush, lowering my eyes. Pierre wouldn’t be too pleased if he caught me being too accommodating. But, then again, he isn’t here right now. So it can’t really hurt. Really. I peer up at him again. He’s still smiling, a genuine expression, and those dimples as clear as day.  
  
“Well, thank you, Matt.”  
  
Matt tilts his head to the side, his gaze direct, sincere. “You don’t get that a lot, do you?”  
  
I frown, biting at my bottom lip. “Um….” I have no idea how to answer that.  
  
“That’s why you wanted me to make you forget, about Pierre. He doesn’t do that for you.”  
  
And isn’t that just the truth, but for Matt to figure that all out in the short amount of time we’ve been together. It’s unnerving, almost. And, anyway, I didn’t peg him for the ‘talk after sex’ type. I start to shake my head.  
  
Matt mutters, “Don’t pull that bullshit, I can see how he is.” He glares toward me, but I sense it’s not me he’s angry with. “He treats you like shit. You don’t deserve that.”  
  
I look down again. That’s also the truth, but I’m caught so deep, I don’t know how to extricate myself from the situation I’ve found myself in. I made my bed, so to speak, and I have to lie in it, until I’ve created the clean slate I need.  
  
Matt sighs, but before he can speak the sound of fireworks catches both our attentions. I carefully get off the bed, still a bit sensitive after the sex. I walk to the door and back out to the hallway, heading for the kitchen/living room. Matt follows his feet silent on the lino. I sense him join me at the window that looks across the city.  
  
Fiery flowers bloom across the skyline, heralding the New Year. My breath catches at the sight. It reminds me of what I just felt moments ago, on the bed with Matt… it seems more than just fireworks…  
  
“Val would absolutely love this,” Matt comments.  
  
I glance at him. “Your wife?”  
  
“Mhm. She’s always loved fireworks. I bet she’ll be watching them right now.”  
  
I nod; then look back to the window. The flowers have changed to golden rings, but they blur in my vision, and I realise there are tears in my eyes. Hearing Matt speak about his wife hurts something deep inside me. It makes me think of what I’m missing in my life. He has someone who he cherishes more than life itself, someone he can do life with. All I have is this apartment, my job, and a man who isn’t even my partner, controlling my life.  
  
As the lights fill the sky, I try to force those thoughts and emotions back. It’s New Year; I don’t want to be down on myself.  
  
I start slightly as a heavy arm drapes around my shoulders. Matt pulls me into his side; I peek up at him. He smiles down at me. Something in his look, though tells me he knows what I’m going through. And that somehow he understands.  
  
It’s funny how people can come into your life and change things around, change a perspective, change a thought. Even if it is in a weird situation. I mean, Matt practically forces himself on me and it makes me feel better about myself than I’ve ever done with anyone else. Odd, I know…but the world is weird like that. And God knows sometimes the most wonderful things come out of the weirdest.  
  
I look up at Matt again.  
  
His gaze is fixed on the sky show, but he must sense my eyes on him, because he squeezes my shoulder and smiles softly, murmuring in a low voice, “Happy New Year.”  
  
I mumble in answer, “Yeah…Happy New Year…” I hope so. I really do hope it is.  
  
And, you know what? Maybe it will be…  
  
After all this, maybe it will be.


End file.
